Flashfiction #36: Business

1. Your work must be within constraints of the theme.
2. Of course, all themes can be interpreted in any number of ways.
3. 500 words maximum per entry, or else the entry will be disqualified.
4. Only post one entry per theme. The highest rated entry will choose the next theme.
5. You may not rate/review your own work.
6. Add a rating out of ten at the end of your "review".
7. Be constructive/honest when criticizing a piece. No mindless flaming.
8. You do not have to enter a flashfic to rate.
9. If you enter and do not rate & review the other entries, your flashfic is disqualified from points.

It is June 30th, 2003. Another windy day in Matadi, the stone city. A man who goes by the name of Ovince Chiamaka carefully places his journal on his desk and starts writing.''You wouldn’t believe the work it took to get myself in this position''

''Me, a dusty kid out the streets of Matadi who's grown into an intrepid Entrepreneur behind one of the largest conglomerates in the country — KOZIAK INC.''

''Despite my achievements I haven't been too proud of myself the past few months, even though getting where I'm at is everything I worked towards my whole life. But that’s a sentiment driven by what I know I'm about to do.''

''Many people are about to lose their livelihood because of me. Hundreds of good and hard-working people in fact. All of whom will soon loathe my guts and find marabous to curse me. Caught in something they had nothing to do with. But I must raise hell to get paradise.''

''You see -- 24 years ago on this very day, a small peripheral village was trampled by sleezy investors who convinced the city’s local government to dig mines in its soil, as traces of gold were found. The villagers refused to forfeit rights to their lands of course, but armed soldiers and bulldozers came to uproot and destroy centuries of traditions without handing compensations. When years of digging did not pay dividends, they sought to make return in investments by making use of the village’s incredible landscape by turning it into a touristic attraction. That turned out to be a successful endeavor.''

''But on June 30th, 1979, a boy and his father lost a home. Now the boy is here to take it back.''

''I successfully bought all the shares to their real estate under the guise of expansion. None of them knows what's about to transpire once I gain complete control of it. Effective today after the board meeting, I take back what's mine.'' — said Chiamaka with a small sense guilt creeping at the back of his head, knowing full well the consequences this entails.

''Never thought I’d be the kind of man who writes into a journal, my assistant is to blame for this. She swore it'd do me good. I think it has... anyway, I digress.''

Chiamaka pauses for a moment and looks into the distance. When suddenly... Knock knock knock!

The door to Oliva’s new office didn’t squeak when she opened it, and that was more important to her than the sleek mahogany finish. The working space was a mix of feng shui and productivity. Three Persian rugs sat under three separate desks, shielding their narrow legs between the hardwood floor. The desks differed in purpose; computer, note-taking and analog, open-ended. A globe sat next to her work phone. Cliché, she thought.

Uncovering the blinds wasn’t particularly magical. The view was about as good as any other office room, overseeing the ant colony of pedestrians below with downtown buildings blocking the horizon. Her phone was vibrating.

“Yes?” She answered, not checking who called. Her monotone betrayed her amused smile. When she heard who it was, she let out her laugh.

“It’s my first day. I expected something a little more chic, to be honest with you.”

“Of course I still plan to see our mission through. Don’t take me for a sell-out yet, doofus.”

“Ciao.”

It had only been a few minutes but boredom was already setting in. I’m doomed, she decided, knowing what lay ahead of her as CEO of a capitalist enterprise. She wanted to work. Feeling the sweat on her brow reminded her she was giving value instead of exploiting it.

She was halfway through her fourth item when Martha, her assistant manager with seniority, walked in. She was supposed to knock first, Olivia wondered. Maybe she didn’t respect her yet.

“Sorry to barge in”, Martha quipped. She was good at masking her sarcasm. “How you likin’ your new castle?”

“Desks are too cheap, but I like the view.” Olivia quipped back. She took out a dollar store match and lit her cigarette.

“Rynex doesn’t want to renew their contract”, Martha began.

“Value?”

“Eighty-four-million a year, gross.” Martha replied.

“And if we don’t retain them?”

Martha let out a sigh. “There aren’t a lot of competitors needing the same service. We’re looking at a ten-million dollar loss in revenue, provided we sign the market alternative.”

Olivia waited for her to leave and opened up the Proletariat message group on her phone. Most of its members left within a couple years after graduation, but it was still dozens strong. Unlike most sororities its members weren’t brainless either.

Just take it off your salary, one text wrote in jest. I don’t make that much, she replied. There were twelve management positions under her and she considered making cuts to all of them – but would it be enough to move the needle?

Since it's already Monday, I'm going to go ahead and reward Stringer with the win. I can start the rating thread and extend the deadline, but since he's the only non-mod to enter I think it'll be better to get the gears rolling on the new theme.

So congrats @Stringer , let us know what the next theme is. Your 6 points will be updated in the Prize Nook, and I'll give you your critique in the FF discussion thread.